Two nights pass in this manner, so when Bill settles at the Royal on the third night, we look forward to the frenzy. He rolls paper into the typewriter and, perched on our keys, we await his heating up, but instead of plowing in, he stares at the sheet, as if he’s reading words there. We are puzzled at the delay, but he finally begins to type. One line, Ode to Max, and then nothing. More staring at the page.
“Where’s the frenzy?” Ak insinuates into me.
“Give him time,” I reply. “He makes the stuff up and maybe it won’t come.”
But Ak is right. Even when Bill types a second line, You crashed my life, it’s without frenzy. Then more staring at the page. Ak bounces around on the keys like he can get things moving, and in his absence, I move to the K. Finally another line from Bill, And I’m i
